


Let the Fires Bathe Us

by someonesgrlbomb



Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonesgrlbomb/pseuds/someonesgrlbomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Pavuvu after the battle at Pelilieu, Sledge is having trouble adjusting to who he is now that he's seen war.  Snafu helps the best way he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Fires Bathe Us

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while vibing on The Pacific scene where Sledge and Snafu return to Pavuvu from Peleliu. Further inspiration came from reading about that moment in Real Sledge’s book "With the Old Breed," along with learning about the lesions somewhere. I combined it all for some reason with the totally fictional Sledge/Snafu story that entertains me. This story was the result...I dunno...The title is from My Chemical Romance's "Mama."

Sledge was trembling angry as he moved his gear into the tent that Snafu had previously claimed on the Marine base of Pavuvu. It was the same tent Sledge had been unwelcome in as a new replacement a thousand years ago, before Peleliu, where they were returning from. He wasn’t mad about the tent move. Of course they would bunk together after Peleliu.

  
*****

_Sledge and Snafu were lounging in disarray along with all the other Marine passengers on the ship’s deck, all mostly quiet, watching the sailors tie things and clean, the horizon bobbing as they cut through unending deep blue, time a meaningless concept in their post-battle stupor. It might have been hours or days since they set sail. Snafu slowly raised his head from where it leaned on a metal rail as if it was a comfortable place to be, a place he didn’t take pleasure in abandoning. Truth was he might have rested as comfortably on a bed of nails or a cold stone floor. Resting safely in fresh air was really all that mattered. Well, that, and what got him looking down from his post, which was up on some kind of boxy feature of the ship’s deck edge that offered a view of most of the men on the expanse of the deck. Snafu sought his target and said expectantly, “Hey Sledgehammer.”_

_Among that mass of shredded mud-fouled olive green that constituted the other Marines scattered around the deck, all fitting together in leans and touches at random edges like dominoes played by the blind, Sledge’s red hair distinguished him easily, though Snafu knew right where he was without looking. “Yeah?” he squinted upward._

_A scarcely masked desperation laced Snafu’s slow, frayed words: “When we get back, settle yer ass in our squad's tent."_

_Sledge blinked, waiting for the information, to hear something that would surprise him._

_Snafu squirmed a bit at the lack of response. “It’s gon’ be…I mean, we'll have open sacks around, you know? After all our casualties. Let’s make sure not too many ah them replacements get in there. Cause there will be replacements." And to himself he muttered and rolled his eyes, "Shit."_

_“Yeah,” Sledge nodded, finally figuring out Snafu needed confirmation. Sledge then sealed it by reaching up and slapping Snafu’s thigh in reassurance and agreement, oblivious to the irony of wanting to fend off replacements. He didn’t need a reason that made sense, that could be articulated, to move as close as possible to Snafu; didn’t need an invitation or directive. Sledge was planning on being there anyway – though even that was overstating it. He hadn’t formalized it as “a plan” till that moment; he’d just never stopped to consider the minimal actions he’d need to take like moving his scant personal belongings - so he could retain his proximity to Snafu when they landed._

*****

  
The return to Pavuvu wasn't going so great for Sledge. Despite rest on the ship ride over, he was still a kind of tired unfathomed, numb like not even full body Novocaine might offer, not feeling like himself in the most literal and unpleasant sense. Then on top of ALL of that, they were assaulted with that otherworldly carnival of an insulting greeting...

Sledge was enraged ever since. His stewing had festered into trembling. He was barely able to get his gear squared away around his new bunk. Items kept dropping, nothing fit anywhere it was supposed to, and every rat and crab that dared scamper by was greeted with an attempted swift punting kick. He usually missed because he was so caught up, and when he connected his boot to one of these obnoxious life forms to commit some real violence, it didn't help him feel any better.

Nearby, Snafu had simply dumped his gear on his cot and stripped till he was just in dog tags above the waist. He was continuing to test whether Sledge would notice his body, in a way that made Snafu feel a different kind of dirty and exposed, dangerous, fucked up, and tempted. Good stuff. Arrival back at Pavuvu had Snafu shifting toward rest and relaxation with greater ease than those like Sledge who had not done this circuit from the base to battle and back once before. Implicit in such thought was that Snafu was now a two-battle survivor - not the kind of thing to dwell much on with more battles ahead and statistics squeezing a logical choke hold on his future. So rather than think on that too much, Snafu embraced an extra lack of regard for everything, living for the moment and his whims as much as possible. His crosshairs were zeroing in on Sledge.

As Snafu observed Sledge, he lit a smoke, realizing this was not going to be a time for assessing whether the head game was only his. Snafu's concern grew as Sledge's unusual temper commanded standing ready, at least on the inside. Snafu was to watch out for Sledge. That much had been established free and clear, by duty and need, after all their days and nights together in battle. And, something else about Sledge was entangling. Something Snafu was open to allowing.

Sledge’s first foray into war had bestowed upon him, among other things he did not need, a new capacity for anger and hate, but it had previously only reared up against the Japanese enemy forces. The venom he was currently burning as fuel didn't have a prior natural place in Sledge’s repertoire, but through Peleliu, Snafu and everyone found Sledge was much tougher than he seemed. So there was no knowing where this peculiar moment was heading.

Sledge shook his pack more vigorously than he had to for the remaining items to fall out, and some mess kit items flew out hard, bouncing on the cot and clattered to the boarded sandy ground. He bent to get a spoon but kicked it at the same time further under his cot, eliciting as close to a cuss as Sledge was known to issue: "Dang it!"

Snafu’s slow monotone New Orleans drawl, unconcerned with conventional beginnings and endings of sentences, was possessed of a capacity to convey no arousal to any situation. This should have been a good start for prying Sledge out of his mood. "Was thinking maybe we can finish all this up later go get some hot chow. Least, see about another cool drink ah juice. Whaddya say, Sledgehamma?"

Sledge stopped cold, turned to Snafu and incredulously repeated, "A drink of juice.” Then louder and questioningly, head bobbing: ”A drink of juice?” Then flat yelling: “Juice??!! " Sledge turned his head to yell more, putting his back into it, and throwing a tin cup at the framed tent walls, "Fucking juice? What the fuck is going on here?!?! Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!"

Snafu put his palms up slowly and defensively, raised one eyebrow, opened his mouth but had no idea what to say. He would usually just walk away from a man’s temper tantrum, most of the time with a satisfied feeling because odds were he had set it off himself, but this was Sledge, and Snafu had not meant to rile him up further. Snafu had just spent weeks living side by side with Sledge through Peleliu’s terrible battle, and Sledge did not formally cuss, despite being sent nothing but stomach-cramping oil drum water for days in 110 degree heat; despite multiple bouts of helpless abject demoralizing fear during merciless shellings with nothing but shallow dips in the coral deck and God’s capricious mercy to cling to; despite incomprehensible suicidal enemies; despite lumping wads of fellow Marine's entrails onto stretchers with the rest of them while smiling and promising “it's not so bad.” Through all of this, Sledge never cussed – not really - not with the f-word for sure.

So…what the fuck indeed.

Sledge finally huffed his way back to looking at Snafu and was immediately taken down a peg to see Snafu feeling uncertain. That was the whole reason he was taught not to cuss; you never know who you might offend or put on the defensive needlessly. And it was established that Snafu was his to look out for, not to threaten. He closed his eyes and shook his head at himself. But he couldn't tamp down the anger. "I am sorry. I just. Cannot. Believe. Those...girls. Out there." He hissed, not parting teeth one iota more than he had to.

"What? Them pretty little Red Cross dames out pouring juice, ‘welcome back,’ ‘suck ya later,’ out by the docks?"

"You seen any others around here?"

"Not sure I'd tell ya if I did."

Through gritted teeth, Sledge spit and paced and struggled to express a thought. "What are they doing here? What is a cup of grapefruit juice...I mean, what in the world do they know...do they think..." Sledge was on his way to trembling mad again, turning pinkish (Snafu could tell even through Sledge’s tanned face). Then Sledge plopped onto his bunk, wringing his hands. "It's just so enfuriatin'...what do they think they're doing here? What do they think?" Sledge kicked at a crab but missed.

For 1/10th of a second Snafu entertained the idea of lighting the little crusacian bastard on fire - an automatic thought occurring with each sighting of those ubiquitous vermin. But he didn't have any lighter fluid and really, Sledge's wrath might have been able to set the thing alight via telepathy, had he meant to. He seemed that angry about the girls.

Snafu recalled the totally discombobulating stun of being greeted by those Red Cross gals, an unexpected encounter with young attractive American females upon the non-triumphant return of the Marines from the truly hellish battle. They'd been overwhelmed coming to grips with how nasty they personally were, how substandardly they'd been living compared to the sailors ferrying them (let alone the modern world they'd left behind to defend), but at least something about that was mitigated in the all-male context of the ship. A brotherhood of blood and dust among Marines, and sailors respectful of that. The objectives of the battle had not been clearly achieved. No one returning felt like a hero or deserving of a damn thing. They were inexplicably survivors and racked with guilt. So to stand in comparison with the pristine fairness of American girls, to be faced with the opposite sex at what felt like one of their lowest points of freshly earned manhood…It was supposed to be nice, sure, but it ended up bizarre and fucked up and yeah, enraging like so many things about the Marine Corps. Snafu had followed Sledge’s lead in approaching and staring down those gals, but he hadn’t needed to dwell on it.

Snafu stepped toward Sledge and got within arm’s reach, hoping to distract him and help him move along. "They jus’ wanted to be friendly, Sledgehamma, that’s all. Put 'em outta your mind. Let's jus get down to the mess and see what's what. I could eat hot chow for days."

Snafu reached out to grab Eugene by the forearm, hoping to just lead him out, but Sledge yanked away like a well-practiced preschooler. "No. You go on. I want to finish up here."

Snafu saw Sledge was serious, nodded and left respectfully. As he walked out, another Marine from their section was on his way in, but Snafu put his hand on the man's chest to stop his progress. Every man in the Company knew Snafu might in that moment try some smartass comment to delay comfort by exaggerating the rat poop problem or something. Snafu said, "Don’t go in right now. Sledgehammer’s in there. Needs a little time." It was so weirdly straightforward a directive coming from Snafu, it was heeded.

*****

The night, Sledge found himself rounding the corner behind the aid station, and sure enough the “juice girls” had been provided quarters there, removed from the men, the riff-raff, the pathetic objects of their patronizing service.

Sledge approached, propelled by hate and rage and indignant disgust.

It was like he was watching himself - not at all aware of what he would do next as he stalked forward.

Practically everyone on the base was gathering for a film reel in a large assembly area, but as Sledge hoped, that blond was there in her tent, still in her full Red Cross getup. He'd pegged her as the one who was clearly in charge, who'd had the bright idea to welcome the boys back and had convinced her friends at the Banika medical base to join her, probably charmed Corps command in some disgusting flirty way to let them. She had orchestrated being right there as the men got off ships from Peleliu, walking past their little tables where they dispensed juice, as well as profound misunderstanding and offense. Her plan was to try to salve the wounds of those returning from hell with the acidic sting of grapefruit juice and with the audacity of soft lilting hair, clean skin, a well-fitting crisp white uniform, and a kind, innocent smile.

Innocence. Sledge soul-scoffed at the distant idea.

The blond turned toward him in her kneeling position near her cot. She was not surprised to suddenly have close quarters with a random Marine and no one else nearby. “I remember you,” she said.

Sledge came at her with eyes fixed like a bayonet, looking past her scattered personal girly stuff he didn’t know how to identify that she’d traveled with and was now sorting and folding. He merely registered her possession of things and it fed his anger, expanded the distance he felt between them. “What are you doing here?” he demanded quietly, exasperated, still moving forward. He was not sure when he would stop.

She looked at him dumbly.

“You don’t belong here,” Sledge asserted.

She engaged him with charm. "Hey," she started kind of easy, "you know, you’re not supposed to be HEY! MMPFFF!"

Sledge covered her mouth with one hand, reached to the back of her head with the other, and fluidly pushed her down against the floor onto her back, getting one arm pinned under his leg to help control her. He kept one hand over her mouth and drew his KA-BAR with the other, holding it pointedly over her face. His actions were the cold work of a smooth machine. His autopilot somehow knew what to do, hovering over her on his knees.

The watching part of him was astonished at his intent, not so much his execution, as of course, he'd been trained in dealing violence.

Keeping the knife in view, he hissed, "Keep quiet! Just gotta make sure you know: you don't belong here.” She looked frightened. It was an informed fright. Animals he’d hunted could look frightened but didn’t have awareness of the potential range of creative brutality men could inflict. This was also different from the look on Japanese soldiers’ faces who were able to see Sledge at the last moment before he pulled the trigger. They didn’t have fear – they had a bizarre mix of disdain and desire and sometimes relief. But to Sledge, the rage he was felt when shooting them was the same as he felt in this moment.

So much rage and violence driving him. He felt both blinded and compelled by it.

She whimpered, “I just wanted to help…I know you had such a rough time.”

At that moment Sledge saw on the makeshift crate bedside table that same pitcher she'd used to pour the juice. Her chalice of ministry to the defeated, the emasculated. Seeing it incensed him further, till he was nearly seeing double.

"Think I wanted juice and to see your face after my ‘rough time’?" he growled, mocking her characterization of the literal hell that was Peleliu that she could not ever ever understand, not sparing the weight of his body as he gestured and pressed down against her to emphasize words.

She brazenly confessed with her eyes an answer to his question, seeming to say Absolutely yes I thought you'd like to see me. So he slapped her across the jaw with a hard open hand

Then he yelled, “You don’t know anything about it! You wanted to help? YOU DON’T BELONG HERE!” Sledge yelled again, wishing to see all trace of her disagreement with that disappear. But it didn’t. She was heaving, whimpering, and yet he saw she was STILL, even now, trying to be something to him that he could not accept, and actually, the more he looked, the more he felt she was nowhere near scared enough, nowhere near getting it.

He had no choice.

“You can't help me," he muttered, and swiftly reached up her stiff white skirt and grabbed at the top of her panties briskly. He pulled, and his other hand pressed the knife flat against her pelvis and thighs, as he needed that hand to cooperate in the effort till he got her panties near her knees. There, he could easily rip them apart with a pass of the sharp blade through the silky fabric. He could next force himself between her legs, still on his knees. He had apparently walked into her tent with his pants open because he found his dick was already pretty much out and hard enough. He didn't really know how he got it into her, nor did he even feel it when he did. He just felt his rage course through him and he transmitted it to her with instant hard thrusts, reminding her “You. Don’t. Belong. Here.” He thought there was a satisfaction to it, like he’d always heard there would be with sex, but he wasn't sure. He was more interested in monitoring her reaction, making sure she understood how poorly she understood him, how she had it so wrong to attempt to be anything to him, a violent worthless lost cause...

She sobbed, "This can't be a Marine...can't be...how can this be you…can't be you..."

Then a clear voice from behind spoke: "Don't."

Sledge glanced behind him toward the doorway he'd come through. It was the darkened figure of Snafu.

 

*****

 

Sledge woke up sweating, gasping, noted with relief he was lying on his back on his sack. His limbs tingled awake from their sleep paralysis. He blinked in the darkness, measuring reality. He was feeling under-satisfied, like he had unfinished business that scared him, like he forgot to finish off the enemy. While scared, he was also still angry. Very unsettled, incomplete. Disoriented. Half hard.

He gripped the edge of his cot and looked to Snafu's bunk. Snafu was up on one elbow, watching him right back through their layers of mosquito netting, as if he'd been watching for a while. Which he had.

Snafu's motionless staring posture in the dark was oddly grounding, telling Sledge he had been having disturbed sleep. Pieces of the dream finally came back to him coherently enough, and the weight of it collapsed Sledge and he rolled away from Snafu. He curled in on himself to uselessly try to fend off the crush of shock, the bewilderment for his mind coming up with that, and an odd tinge of smugness to have done something in service of the outrage he’d felt. But no, that wasn’t right either. Then he noticed he'd rolled onto a particularly rough and raw patch of those sores on his forearm that he and all the grunts had developed toward the end of their time on Peleliu (not that they knew it was getting to be the end of their time). The pain from them when rubbed reminded him of their existence, and he felt so disgusted with himself. No one knew what caused them.

He might have been a walking, rotting corpse, an abomination, less than human.

Snafu had left his bunk and was creeping toward Sledge. He crept because he hoped not to wake the other bone weary men, but also and primarily because he didn't know many other ways to move toward Sledge. He often felt what he was doing in approaching Sledge was not OK in a certain way, and so it just came out as creeping.

Sledge knew Snafu was heading over, hoped for his touch. When he got it on his shoulder as usual, through his mosquito net, he relaxed a little. Then he relaxed a little more upon hearing the familiar melody of Snafu whispering, "Sledgehammer.” Snafu went on: “Come on, let's go have a smoke."

Sledge was so comforted at Snafu's touch it unraveled him instantly. He fought tears. He didn't deserve any kindness. He was so glad for Snafu being there. Being half hard and with that gnawing feeling of noncompletion was bothersome, but with Snafu there, he felt a more legitimate weird hope for resolution. Sledge rolled toward Snafu, looked at him hovering above, and paused to appreciate their familiar close space. Then he sat up and Snafu backed away in perfect choreography, staying safely close by and allowing Sledge the room he needed to slip on sandals, grab his pack and Zippo, and slip out of the tent.

Up and down the Company road dimly lit by scant flambeaus permitted to stay on, there were scattered, awake, smoking Marines. None were in earshot since the trade winds whooshed through the foliage to create a constant background noise.

Sledge walked a few paces down the road, looking at the half moon, rubbing his half hard dick a little with the heel of his hand, willing it not to get any worse, waiting for Snafu to get his smokes and join up.

It gave Sledge a chance to wonder what devil had crawled inside of him. It was perfectly conceivable that plenty of evil was lurking around at Peleliu, looking for bodies to possess. His worst fear, though, was that there was nothing supernatural about it.

He guessed he might have eventually forgiven himself for his anger for the unwelcome reception by those well-intentioned Red Cross gals. He’d been so tired, was just back from that horrific place…but to take it to the level he did in his dream...and then he got lost thinking about moving through his rage, thrusting against her body, remembering his belief he was building up to something...part of him wanted to go back to the satisfaction the dream had promised, depraved though it was.

He was shaky, sniffing in tears.

He blamed the Japs.

He blamed the Marines.

He blamed the unnamable entanglement he had with the ambiguous Snafu.

He blamed his exhaustion.

He came back to wholesale owning his weakness, which he was newly becoming acquainted with as far more pathetic than he thought.

Snafu's quiet tread on the coral road was accompanied by his saying, "I tell ya, Sledge, I woke up ‘bout 15 minutes ago thinking I'm about to be jumped on by a damn Nip. Again. Where ever I'm sleeping, seems like I always dream one is hiding nearby, stowed away in the ship or here special just to get me. Hidin’ in my pack or something. So fucking stupid."

Sledge nodded and raised eyebrows supportively, then chuckled darkly. "It's not stupid. Happened to me on the transport. Lotsa guys been havin' that happen."

Snafu, paused, observed the moon, too, then asked slowly, "You weren't having that dream just now, were you, Eugene?"

Sledge shrugged noncommittally, growing equally desperate to hide his shameful fantasy and to confess it to Snafu, who would not judge and who was cranking up the safety and intimacy with first name use. Sledge puffed his cigarette and felt thankful he took up smoking as he felt himself calm down a speck with each inhale.

Snafu rocked on his feet, wanting to move toward Sledge to comfort him but he didn't know how to direct his body or where he thought he wanted to end up exactly anyway. Tentatively, he said, "Heard you saying, 'You don't belong here.' Sounded mad, and you didn't wake up swinging like you were about to be killed, like I do after these Nip dreams."

Sledge nodded, “It was...something pretty different.” He pleaded through the air for Snafu to keep probing, maybe to touch his shoulder again.

"My guess? Same thing had you all riled up earlier - them Red Cross gals. You dream about yelling at them?"

Sledge started soulfully at Snafu, then looked aside of him to say, “Yeah. Something like that.”

Snafu nodded. He didn’t really have the picture but they were communicating, commiserating on some level. Hard to ask for much more, though Snafu kind of wanted to wrap Sledge up and hide him away for his own safe keeping. Something. He stepped toward Sledge, sidled up to him, and got shoulder to shoulder, just like they did in the field a lot when it was the only reasonable way to co-exist given the terrain. It had become a comfortable place to exist. “Maybe that oblong pigskin you call a head is just working it out and these dreams gon’ get you right over this bullshit. Maybe it works that way.”

After a pause, where clearly Sledge was thinking about it and calming his sniffling, he perked up. “Huh. You know something? You were there, too.” Sledge voice was really brightening, suddenly remembering that detail.

Snafu raised his eyebrows, blowing out smoke. “Sure. Bet I had some choice words for them gals for ya.”

“No,” Sledge said, solidly certain. “Not…no. You were trying to stop me.” He pressed his shoulder into Snafu’s a little more.

Snafu was stilled and hoped he didn't give away to Sledge how fucked up it was for the better man to dream of the other’s guidance. He then wondered if it was unnatural for them to keep standing so close. There was all the space on the road for them to use, but they gaggled together, smoking, pressing, calming. But those thoughts passed on through, shoved aside by the intrigue Snafu found in having been in Sledge’s dreams at all. “That so? Yeah, guess that makes more sense. I gotta keep you in line." Snafu was fighting a grin as he spoke.

Sledge’s dream Snafu and the one there with him at that moment were the same: the man he felt wildly grateful for, trusted so completely. He grinned weakly back, felt sentimental, and his chest heaved a little. “I do owe you…so much,” Sledge confessed as he leaned more, bowing his head toward Snafu, tentatively at first then full on turning to hug Snafu, who didn’t resist at all.

At the full frontal body contact, Sledge’s lingering erection was like a match stroked on flint, coming alive instantly. Sledge had to let go quickly. Snafu registered the whole thing and caught Sledge's eyes as he pulled away. Snafu saw his friend was not in a place to deal with it then and there, so Snafu tucked it away, offering space on the matter for the time being, but saying languidly and without looking down at Eugene’s crotch, “Careful what kind a' debts you get yourself into." Then he quickly interceded before any awkward moments could take hold. "Think I’ll try to get some shut eye again before the damn sun comes back up. I'll give you a minute to yourself now. That is, if you think you’re gonna be ok."

Sledge nodded a little urgently, grateful and eager to get out of the moment.

Snafu returned to their tent, doomed to be wide awake for the next two hours lying in his sack with his head and limbs buzzing.

Sledge went to the edge of the road where it turned into the foliage of the island and jerked off to imaginings of being pressed to Snafu, erection in contact, awareness of warm spots on his body where Snafu had leaned into him before the hug. No thoughts of forcing himself on anyone.

 

*****

 

…the furious walk around the aid station to the girls' tent…finding the blond alone with her things…I remember you…You don’t belong here…I just wanted to help after your rough time…Sledge making her take him, understand him, his fury, his violence that she claimed to understand...

"Don’t.”

Sledge didn’t need to look. He knew who it was.

He pulled the pistol off his belt and pointed it as he turned, squeezing the trigger for a perfect kill shot which Snafu didn't see coming at all.

 

*****

 

At the sound of the pistol firing, Sledge sat straight up in bed, heart and head pounding, that terrible feeling of unfinished business, of wanting to complete something dangerous, half hard, and now also panicked he lost something important…until he could make out Snafu, up on his elbow watching Sledge, again. After a beat of eye contact, Snafu reached for his smokes and sandals. Sledge took the cue and did the same when he could get his body to respond without too much trembling and when the need to rip something apart passed.

The opening volley in their dialog was Snafu just looking expectantly at Sledge when he arrived.

“Two times now,” Sledge launched, just as predicted, “Two times I…I dreamt I…I…hurt…I hurt that Red Cross girl.” He was nodding side to side in short quick oscillations to indicate his disbelief of his own ears, pacing a bit, discharging energy.

Snafu directed his eyes downward to make it easier for Sledge to keep talking. Sledge’s shame was too pure to be looked directly at, required honoring by averting eyes away. "Jus’ a dream, Sledgehammer,” Snafu offered, aware it wouldn’t help.

Sledge stopped and confessed in a whisper, finger alternately pointing to his chest, Snafu, the ground - where ever would emphasize the point best for each phrase, "I ain’t even ever been…I’ve never done that with a girl…nicely. You know?”

Snafu’s bug eyes widened even more, briefly. “Yeah, I know. Everybody knows.” Knowing who is a virgin is a priority in a rifle company during war. That wasn’t the surprising part. Sledge had had some fucking dream, that was clear. No wonder they were doing this a second night.

“How’m I coming up with dreams like that? What is wrong with me?”

“Not a damn thing,” Snafu shrugged.

“How can you say that?”

“Well, just seems like maybe you just gotta stop bein’ so angry about some broad wanting to give you juice.”

“It's not about juice.”

Snafu blinked, lit another smoke. It didn’t matter he wasn’t making sense with Sledge. Just talking mattered. Trying. “What’s it about then, perfessor? Everybody dreams crazy shit. Flying, showing up naked to Sunday school, you know, and no one thinks much about it. Just happens."

Sledge sighed, rubbed the back of his head, stared off. “Yeah, well, no one dreamed about Japs jumping on 'em till it really happened, and this stuff is kinda like stuff that happened."

Snafu gave Sledge the full one-eyebrow look. "Sledge, the worst thing anyone can say you did to any of them gals is stare at 'em kinda mean-like."

"Worst way I ever treated a woman," Sledge said, shaking his head. "It really seems to all be about what an awful, terrible...mmm…" and he bent over into a crouch, very suddenly overwhelmed with what it was about, and he rocked backward till he was seated and hugged his knees, kept fighting tears, looking at the moist open lesions slashing an inch here, an inch there, all down his arms to his hands. Monster. He didn’t say it aloud because every man there was no different from him, he knew. He shouldn’t judge them or himself. Knew it for that moment anyway, with Snafu there. “Nevermind.”

Snafu respected Sledge's obvious bid to not lose it, and it was easy enough because he had a burning question. "I try to stop you in this one, too?” Snafu had to know, having suffered fairly obsessive thoughts for the 24 hours that had passed since he first heard he’d made a heroic appearance in Sledge’s dreamscape.

Sledge chuckled darkly, remembering. “Yeah. Yeah, you tried to stop me. You tried. But uh…” Sledge shrugged, trying to indicate it didn’t work, not wanting to give life or any kind of reality to that moment. "I wasn't in a listening mood."

“I’d-uh beat your ass for sure if you didn't wanna listen to me," Snafu offered, defensively but also kidding a bit, trying to lighten things up.

“Yeah, well, I shot you dead,” Sledge snapped, angry and sickened, and not letting Snafu brighten things.

“You shot me?” Snafu was offended.

“Yeah.”

Snafu plopped down next to Eugene, deflated. "With what?” It would only matter to certain folks.

Sledge knew that and provided the answer without any surprise at being asked. "My sidearm.”

“How the fuck did you get the draw on me?”

“You didn’t seem to have a weapon.”

“The hell you say.”

Sledge shrugged.

“I had a weapon.” Snafu seemed certain, invested.

Sledge made a little space between them and quirked an eyebrow. “You know it wasn’t really you, right? Remember this was MY nightmare?”

“You tell that lil’ Snafu running around in your head – he gotta have his weapon cleaned and ready all the fucking time. Your head’s a dangerous place, Eugene.”

Sledge stared away, done with the silliness. “That’s the truth. Why my head had to invent two of the most awful things, after all the real awful things I won’t ever forget I really saw and I really did...”

Snafu finally heard something he could latch onto and cut Sledge off. “Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. You didn’t do nothing awful. You survived. Kill or be killed. It's fuckin' war, Sledgehamma. And it’s like the Skipper said - this war. Greater good. Shit like that."

Sledge's inner swell of emotions was rising, gathering strength. The reference to their compassionate and strong but tragically fallen former Company leader, Captain Haldane, was an unfair boost to those forces, causing his eyes to water, his throat to close. He swallowed painfully, choking the sobs back, and was compelled to explain in broken whispers and squeaks and sniffs, “Yeah…I dunno…I know it’s war but…doesn’t seem OK…I don’t feel anything like, like ok, like good…I feel the opposite of good…total opposite…but here I am, for God knows what reason.” Sledge shifted a little in his thought train, glancing at Snafu who was still just smoking and looking down right next to him. “And you…you survived…God knows why on that one, too, but…” and then Sledge lowered his voice to say, “I’m so glad you survived. I cannot imagine…and then I go and I dream I…I kill you...” Sledge got lost again in his own depths. “Oh God….I cannot take that…I cannot take that thought...what might I be, what am I that I dream about killing you and forcing myself on some girl?"

Snafu was thrilled at what Sledge seemed to be saying about him, but wrecked at Sledge’s distress, and truly Sledge's questions seemed perplexing. What did these dreams mean? If Sledge was asking, maybe there was an answer worth knowing. Snafu had been sitting atop his own mountain of "life is fucked up" from his own combat experiences, seeing and doing awful things, but not planning to think about it, or its effects on him. How he knew which way was up and how to obey the laws of gravity after that amount of bullshit was indeed a mystery, if he were to ponder it. But he had no need to. Still, he knew Sledge wasn’t cut out that way. He slung his arm over Sledge’s shoulders. “Jus’ a dream. You can't get rid of me,” he tried using his body to remind Sledge he was indeed alive, that they both were. This time it didn’t feel like it would become uncomfortable at all to stay that way for as long as they wanted to.

Sledge leaned in to Snafu, so glad for the reassurance, that Snafu was OK with the crazy thoughts bleeding out of his head, that this wasn't scaring him off. He leaned over till they touched heads. It felt so comforting, like home, and he wondered if he needed Snafu to be with him forever so he could stay sane, as Sledge could not fathom a world in which he did not at all times have physical evidence of Snafu being alive. It soothed him, stopped his sobbing, reminded him of something good.

Snafu was so pleased at Eugene’s relaxing into him. It was more than he could have hoped for. Snafu started letting his hand rub the other man’s arm and back, scratch lightly into his hair, rub his neck, sooth him directly.

Sledge was initially curious and thought he should be uncomfortable, but Snafu’s wandering hand felt so nice, so kind, so comforting. And then as he relaxed, there was a tingling from Sledge’s gut and awareness of how close their faces were, of Snafu breathing, of the location of his lips. Sledge licked his own lips.

Snafu could hardly believe he was getting away with touching Eugene, that he was actually receptive to this impulse of Snafu’s to touch, seemed relaxed by it, seemed rescued a bit. Snafu resolved to keep at it as long as Eugene would let him, and was curious where this was going.

After a couple of minutes of them each getting comfortable with being comfortable, Sledge inhaled and exhaled with an audible, low register, unmistakable sigh. To Snafu, it was an obscene and delicious sounding sigh, and went straight to his cock, and he then got some idea of what he might meander toward if left to it. Snafu had a sense of coming alive, energy pulsing through his limbs in symbolic parallel to all the blood rushing to his dick. He wasn’t necessarily convinced Eugene was onboard for all of this, except there wasn’t any sign of any resistance yet...

Sledge felt the energy coming off Snafu, and noted the equivalent way they were both breathing harder, and their bodies were revving up and needing to consume something. Sledge was game to pull away and check Snafu’s eyes, because he was comfortable doing anything with Snafu, and because Sledge was the curious type and, really, it all seemed so innocent and harmless. He appreciated an outsider would see danger in this, but he knew it was good. It felt good.

Snafu sent Eugene an intense stare as his meandering hand slowed up, trickled only a little between Eugene's shoulder and neck, then just his neck. They exchanged looks of care and hunger and astonishment. Nothing but good news to one another. The danger that was there that didn’t bother Sledge was a total turn on for Snafu.

Snafu's eyes had their fill of Sledge's, so they wandered down Sledge’s body, hoping to see other signs of arousal like the night before. Sitting as Sledge was, with his legs bent, it wasn't too clear. But just Snafu’s looking, his shift in interest, was a leap Sledge registered and he arched his eyebrows at Snafu.

Breathing got harder. There could have been pretending that this was not happening, but it was dark and Snafu was not inclined to deny his desires with the war still raging and with the Marines not about to let him go home.

Sledge was willing to following what felt right, desperate to know truth, comfort, anything positive. This.

Snafu released Eugene and searched for any sense of what Eugene would be up for next.

Sledge just continued breathing and looking. He didn’t know what to do.

"Fuck," Snafu whispered and hauled himself up, heel of his hand going straight to his crotch for friction duty - cause at least it was something - and he turned and said, "Come on," and lumbered past the tree line beyond the row of tents and tried not to think about how Sledge might not...

But then Snafu heard Sledge’s crunchy footsteps following, and Snafu turned to see Sledge had implemented the same hand-on-crotch plan as he moved.

Snafu stopped near a tree into the forest, his back to the road, and he whipped open his dungarees, knowing Sledge was gonna be there in a second. He grabbed his grateful straight and hard cock and immediately started pumping away, leaning on the tree with his other elbow, not sure what else to do. He just needed to relieve this build up and he was making the most of what was surely going to be a short go.

Eugene arrived and breathed audibly, whispering, "Holy..." but he didn't complete the thought upon watching the intensity that was Snafu working his own cock even from the rear view that Sledge had as he approached. He slowly circled around to look, and Snafu told Sledge he was jerking off just for him with his wildly intense and pleased and concerned look and his “Fuck, Sledgehamma,” whisper.

Sledge needed to get some strokes in on his own dick before possibly coming at the sight of Snafu even more debauched than usual, so started opening his pants.

"That's it, Sledgehammer," Snafu grinned, thrilled again by Sledge's participation, enthusiasm, acceptance. Snafu spoke in low, lush tones. "That's it…This is good…"

Sledge made a whimper upon grabbing his dick and getting his own rhythm started. Snafu's knees almost buckled at the sound.

There was no way Sledge could stop but as he pumped his dick harder and harder, he was reminded of the hard satisfying but sensationless thrusting (raping) in his nightmare and he felt so guilty and undeserving. But Snafu was there cheering him on, giving a different possible focus.

"This is good, so good," Snafu rambled on, eyes sparkling as he just could not believe they were in this moment. Had he wanted to make it something more, he was quickly running out of time because touching himself while Sledge was heaving and sighing and intensely pumping his own cock and making such an intense face…well, it had Snafu coming shortly with a gasp.

Sledge got close but was not 100% able to turn off thoughts and feelings from his horrible dreams. Snafu watched Sledge with such hungry eyes helplessly, and Sledge didn't know how to bring together all this craziness. He came, but not without guilt. "Fuck," he muttered quietly, shaking his head, grinning weakly to try to cover it all up.

"'Whatsamatter Sledgehammer?" Snafu asked a bit nervously, pulling his fly back together.

A signature Sledge thin-grin, a shrug. "Not sure. Guess…guess it seems wrong. Wrong things in my head as I…I don’t know."

Snafu nodded and chuckled mildly as they put themselves back together. Snafu tried to model for Sledge shaking it the fuck off. Poor Sledge, holding himself to such a high standard. Sledge got more serious and slow and Snafu knew that this was quite an upping of the ante between them. They stumbled into each other as they walked back, testing, touching, catching each others' eyes.

Sledge grew certain he did not deserve to top off an arousal that started with a rape dream.

Monsterous.

 

*****

 

"Trust me, you don't want nothing to do with that," the MP insisted, lip curling, face contorting.

"Jus’ wanna talk to her," Sledge muttered back, trying not to seem as unhinged and psychotic as he felt, having arrived there at Snafu’s urging. He didn't know why else he was there - it was not expected to go well.

"Johnny, is someone there?"

The MP rolled his eyes. "Too late for you now."

"Johnny, let him through, you big bully."

"She's all yours," he scoffed. "I'll be back in 30.” He walked off into the night.

Sledge watched him go, not sure why he didn't correct the guy. He only needed about five minutes to say his piece and go. Sledge stepped into her quarters and she instantly approached him. She was in a light pink silky kimono. It was so foreign a sight he might as well have stepped into Arabian Nights. He was distracted by it enough to be thrown off course, confused, forgetting who he was, what brought him there. She walked toward him slowly, saying in a friendly, weirdly cheerful way, "Well hi there, Marine." She kept her lips apart, as if waiting to see what he would do.

He felt his clothes hanging on his frame after so much weight loss in the recent weeks. He never felt more aware of how unclean he was, though he’d showered plenty since returning from Peleliu.

"Don't be shy, come on in," she said, lower, changing tactics.

Sledge licked his lips and with her invitation, found the motor commands to send to his legs to shuffle toward her, uncertain how close he should get, how close he wanted to get. God damn he hated her, but she was alluring in such effective ways. Not that it would take much in that environment.

Noting his stare at the robe, she grabbed the opportunity. "Like what you see?" she asked, lightly gripping one lapel, touching her chest with her fingertips, pulling the fabric away, flashing more skin.

He instinctively looked away, made aware he'd been staring, not prepared for this at all. "Uh, I, wasn’t…" he stammered.

"Like a drink?" she offered. She had a lot of tactics.

Suddenly the room spun to a focus on the pitcher as she lifted it. Everything in peripheral vision blurred, like a fisheye lens. He just saw her holding that pitcher again. The rage flooded back.

"Ma’am, I don't want anything from you," he said resentfully.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?" She put it down the pitcher and closed the gap between them. "You’re here for something.” She reached up to drag a hand down his chest. “What's your pleasure Marine?"

That she knew to call him "Marine" rather than “soldier” or “Joe” was a little impressive.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know," he said, rehearsed, working to stick to the script, "You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't a’ been there right when we got back, handing out juice with a stupid sign saying ‘something sweet for you.’ We were not prepared for that. Why wouldn’t you just leave us alone? You didn’t belong here, and I wish to God I never seen ya."

Now she was surprised, not sure what to do with this. "OK...so, you came back here to tell me no thanks for a cup of juice you already drank?"

Her comment was myopic on the surface, but Sledge suddenly felt absolutely transparent, like she was able to see everything about him, a movie of all his deeds played in one moment for her to judge. He felt hot and nauseous and greasy. "Forget it," he muttered, and turned to go, heart racing and a little panicked. Pissed at Snafu for sending him there.

“How about,” she mewed, “instead of this drink, I give you something else?” Sledge paused after the couple of steps he’d taken to get away. She padded behind him and danced her fingers up his arm, up to shoulder, his neck, and then her other hand joined and started rubbing lightly on his shoulders.

He enjoyed it and utterly could not enjoy it. But he was frozen to do much about it. She had gained power over him somehow.

She rubbed harder and he melted a bit. He’d been hard on her. She was being kind. And she was a pretty little thing. She guided him to sit on the cot as she kept working his shoulders loose. “That’s better, right, Marine?” She moved her hands down to rub his back, and Sledge felt his cock twitch alive. This was not how he thought this would go. He was there to communicate to her what he wanted to let her know, and then leave, to put it all to rest.

She let her hand slip around to his sides, found entrance up each side of his t shirt to make skin on skin contact. “Just let me take care of you,” she offered. “I’m a nurse; it’s what I do.” Sledge shivered. Her hands lightly circled and played their way forward to his stomach, and she was pressing her body against his back. Her lips were close to his ear, breathing sweet, slow, and heavy.

He continued to enjoy it and utterly not enjoy it. He didn’t deserve this.

“Now, just let me,” she introduced her actions, and opened his dungarees and reached in. She sighed dramatically. He was fully hard, and she rubbed her hand over his underwear. "Let me take care of you, give you what you need after that terrible time,” she pleaded.

That incensed Sledge some, because what the fuck did she know about how bad it was? But he still wasn’t able to participate, let alone take any control. He felt the press of her soft breasts against him and he felt the tingle and anticipation coursing through him. So confused.

She stood, and he heard her robe drop to the ground, but he didn’t look. She stepped in front of him. He looked. She was perfect. He enjoyed it but. But. But. Also he was angry. Was it OK to let her take care of him? Would he really want to give her the satisfaction?

“You can touch me,” she said kindly as she straddled him. “I know you might not think you deserve something good, but it’s OK. You do. You can.”

He reached around to her smooth, soft back to help hold her on his lap, but that was it. It was the least controversial thing he could do. She kissed his neck, grinded her hips into him. It felt good but he didn't want it to. He resented she could do that. The more sure of herself she seemed, rubbing and pressing, the more resentful he grew.

Her hands trailed down each of his arms symmetrically, but they slid against his sores, and it hurt a little, distracted him more from any pleasure. She pulled away to look at the odd texture of his arms and took on a look of disgust. "What's wrong with you?" she asked.

Some nurse. Sledge knew what to do.

"You don’t belong here," Sledge said calmly as he pulled his knife out and stabbed her right through the heart.

 

*******

 

Sledge woke to the warm feeling of blood gushing onto him. When he appreciated that it wasn’t real, he found new exasperation with himself. Snafu was still asleep, so Sledge laid there alone, lamenting that he might never be fit to return to civilization.

 

****

 

The next morning, Snafu saw Sledge’s despair, his slowness of movement. In the first aside he could get with Sledge as they went to chow, he asked, “Same dream again, Sledgehammer?”

Sledge shrugged. “Kind of.”

“I get the draw on you this time?”

“You weren’t there."

“No killing this time? That’s an improvement.”

Sledge inhaled. “Not really. This time, I flat killed that gal. No one – not you, no one - tried to stop me. In fact, it was like I was only there to see her because you told me to."

“Gotta let this shit go, Eugene. Let it go, just dreams,” Snafu tossed off, looking elsewhere, wanting the topic to close, so pissed at himself he didn’t wake up last night, and that he didn’t appear in the dream the right way. He resolved to make it up to Sledge.

 

*******

 

Snafu had been working the rumor mill, the networks, the trading systems, the honor code, gave one handjob, whatever if fucking took – got the dope on the blond. The news was good. She was indeed one of those types of Red Cross gals. They weren’t all that way, but Jesus, to agree to go to the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a bunch of horny young men facing death? It attracted several types, yes, and she was that type. So Snafu figured out the access process, which was limited for the enlisted men. There were quite a few protective layers around her and a great deal of shunting of their time and efforts to the officers. Snafu’s efforts purchased him a privileged place eating with her in the big swarm that always materialized around the gals. That was the basic nominating process - the thumbs up or down was, of course, up to her.

He turned on his Big Easy charm, spoke the little bit of French that he knew, and later, had her in her own barbed-wire coated tent. After making out a few minutes, Snafu generously, reverently turned her and held her back to his front as they stood. He sucked on her neck more, ran his hands down her body on the outside of her clothes, let her know he was never more amazed by any figure in his life. He then unhurriedly unbuttoned her blouse. He used light fingers on her skin as he unhooked her bra, not trying to pull it or her shirt off. He knew it would all feel safer that way, and he just felt her soft skin and he started pressing his erection against her, just to be sure she felt it, but not expecting to get it tended to yet. He massaged her breasts gently, whole handedly, moaned for her, exclaimed on her beauty some more, then pressed her nipples in a little with fingertips, and he made gentle circular patterns, feeling her start to move her hips. Her breasts firmed up and her nipples pointed out and he teased and lightly pinched them and she jerked her body minutely in response. He asked her to tell him if she liked it, to tell him if he was doing anything he shouldn’t, or if there was anything he should do he wasn't, but she nodded no, and she told him she liked it all, almost uncomfortable with all this open discussion. He kept touching her upper half with one hand and moved on with his other hand, reaching between her legs. First he rubbed over clothes, then gathered up her skirt to find out what she had going on underneath. Just panties – luckily nothing complicated. So he rubbed and kissed and sucked her neck and kissed the back of her hand as he pressed a knuckle of his other hand into her clit lightly, rubbing till be found the spot that made her gasp. She reached back to find his dick and pressed her hand against it, unable to grab it in his pants.

Of course it was fucking very very hard to be so motherfucking good but god dammit he held it together for the plan, for Sledge. He didn’t even rub against her hand. He focused on giving her some fireworks behind her eyelids.

Once Snafu had given her that excitement, a crescendo without fingering anywhere other than her clit over her increasingly moist panties, she pushed his hand away, as he hoped she eventually would. She turned to him, and then insisted on a good hard fucking - with protection (she was a nurse). Snafu grinned and kissed her on the mouth deeply, pushing his tongue in and sweeping around before squatting to pull her panties down. He remained squatting, just to kiss and lick into her folds a little, make sure she was good and wet and pleased and worshipped. He kept at it till she squirmed and then begged for him to stand up. He soon had her turned around again, bent over, back arching up, as he fucked into her easily, with such satisfaction as he entered her warm moistness. It stayed as good as he remembered it could – so amazingly wet and just enough friction as he fucked in and out of her. She was biting her own arm to keep quiet. She wasn’t exactly tight but she was beyond good enough for a Marine stuck in the Pacific whose dick hadn’t been in anything nearly so pleasant in years. He came pretty fast and made sure to moan her name – “oh, Molly!” - as he did. But he was mostly thinking of Sledge. All for Sledge.

As Snafu pulled out, pulled off the rubber and got to putting his fly back together, he chanted a little dramatically, as if to himself, “Oh, Molly. Oh my oh my, oh, oh, oh,” sounding happily overwhelmed and wanting to find words. “Oh…Huh, listen to me. I sound like an idiot. What I mean is…oh, oh, I don’t know. La de dah. Well, just…thanks.” He cracked his voice at the last word.

She had been pulling herself back together too, smiling as he rambled. “You're sweet,” she finally managed.

Snafu went on. “Really. Thank you. I…I…really needed that. I mean, I really feel like you did something great here, really helped me. I know how that sounds. I bet every Marine and sailor says it, but still…”

“Not usually," she interjected with ease. "You Marines aren’t usually the talkative types." She was amused.

“Well, after what I been through, I think somehow…well, getting close to something so sweet and pretty and warm and nice…I think it really helps somehow."

"I like to think so, too. Or else, I am just kind of a big…chump," she kidded.

Snafu chuckled with her. "You’re a damn fine nurse, is what you are. You know that? Oh, excuse me. So used to the boys club here."

“Cussing? I don't give a damn," she laughed, releasing him from any guilt. "You know, for being around boys so much, you know what you’re doing with a girl,” she said gratefully. “You’re really…sweet. And…thoughtful. I thank you.”

“Aw, gosh, you shouldn’t be thanking me…”

“Much more thoughtful, even than most oficers.”

“Well, guess they are just used to giving orders and getting handed what they want. Us grunts, we gotta move more carefully, not spoil any chances for a little something good.”

“That must be why I prefer you grunts, then.”

Snafu kept smiling. “Lucky me. Anyway, I best go." Snafu took a step away, then turned back. "I don’t suppose we could get together again sometime? I know it’s not exactly…”

“I'd like that,” she smiled.

Snafu looked very thoughtful and said, “Maybe something like this again, but, uh, better?”

“Better?” her eyes went a bit wide.

“Yes ma’am,” he said confidently, and even a little hurt that it would surprise her he might have more tricks up his sleeve.

“Fine by me,” she smiled, kissed him closed mouth. "I’m heading back to Banika in a few days, so don't wait too long."

Snafu walked away triumphantly. Sure, he pleased a woman. Big deal. Being a relatively unsupervised adolescent in New Orleans meant his education on the matter was advanced, as the girls and women there were more open to teaching and talking; and some were flat demanding. Snafu’s triumph was that his plan to help Sledge was going well.

 

*****

 

Sledge was furious again and was compelled to stomp past the aid station, enter the tent with just the blond in it shuffling her things. This time, though, Snafu was with him, had wanted to come, had realized he needed to be mad as hell too, finally, and Sledge couldn’t have stopped him if he wanted to.

She nodded at both of them, “I remember you.”

Sledge took a breath but Snafu’s stole his words, as he heard Snafu say for him almost in perfect time with how he was planning to speak, “You don’ belong here.”

She didn’t seem threatened with two angry Marines in her midst. “I just wanted to help. I know you boys went through a pretty tough time.”

As Snafu stole his action plan, Sledge watched in astonishment as he noticed two things. 1) Snafu did what Sledge wanted to do, and 2) these were the things he wanted to do: grabbing her head, pressing her down to the ground onto her back, pulling a knife on her...

Snafu flashed a look at Sledge, as if to say, “You’re welcome.” But then he really said menacingly, “Stay there, Sledgehammer. Just watch.”

Sledge did as he was told, relieved and grateful Snafu was doing his dirty work as if it were his own. Sledge sensed his rage jumping out and flowing through Snafu and into that arrogant girl. All Sledge had to do was sit back and masturbate. As Snafu thrust into her unwilling, mildly struggling body, he kept looking back at Sledge with those same eyes he made at Sledge that night in the trees: This is for you.

Pumping his own cock felt good. Sledge just kept at it as Snafu taught that girl that they were not men, they were animalistic fiends who could not be helped. What the fuck was she thinking?

Frustratingly, before Sledge could come, Snafu raised his knife above the girl and turned to Sledge. Sledge knew there was something he was supposed to say, like “Don’t” but he was silent. He let Snafu stab the blade down to her chest….

 

********

 

Sledge woke up gasping, unbelieving, then crumpled up, paused, quickly knew what was going on because at least he was now practiced at startling awake from these nightmares, able to orient himself faster. But he just had to let loose five seconds of kicking and writhing violently in his bed while yelling “FUCK!” Then he sprang up, grabbed smokes, went outside, and knew Snafu would follow, telling the guys whom he woke to stay put.

“Bad one again?” Snafu asked when he stopped a couple feet away on the road, keeping some distance till he could know where Sledge was. Things were getting desperate, Snafu knew.

Sledge stared and stared at the road, unable to think of how to express himself, unlit cigarette hanging on his lip. He wanted Snafu there. He didn’t deserve what he wanted. Obviously things were not improving – he was not working through this. He was really an evil, changed thing. He was aroused. “I don’t know anymore,” Sledge whispered. He mindlessly pushed the heel of his hand at his crotch. “Dammit….”

Snafu immediately noticed Sledge’s bulging pants, licked his lips, and said, “You think it would help if we, uh…”

Sledge finally looked Snafu in the eye, grabbed the cigarette away from his mouth, and spoke deliberately at first. “I keep dreamin’ of rape and murder, and sometimes you try to save me, and sometimes you’re just as bad as I am. And even with all that, I don’t know if it will help, but…” Sledge started speaking faster now, "I do want to just get my dick out and you get yours out and,” his intensity darkened, his hand paused over his crotch and he stared intently at Snafu, “And maybe I even want to just…grab you up, you know?” Shadows arrested Sledge where he stood, covered him in a darkness Snafu felt cold from. “I would just really…” and then Sledge backed away from an abyss, shrugged off the darkness and sounded young and scared, “Really be with you. Not just next to you, you know? Do you think that would help? Be good? Would you even want to?” Sledge seemed like he might run. “Jesus, how could you want to?”

“Easy. Like this,” Snafu said, practically moving before he knew it to grab Eugene’s arm and trot him into the trees. There was no moon, no worries anyone saw. Snafu pulled Sledge to him and kissed him on the lips hard without pushing in his tongue, just crushing their lips and bodies together, feeling each others’ erections - cherries on top of the treat they were finally allowing themselves.

Sledge allowed it, then participated, found his arms wrapped around Snafu. He felt accepted, human. And he needed that so much. He needed more. He breathed. Snafu did too, and they mutually went to kiss again, this time tongues meeting and fighting and dancing and discharging as much intensity as such parts can. Snafu reached down for Sledge’s pants, shoving his hand in easily since Sledge’s clothes continued to hang on his slender frame, starved and sickened in battle, and he hadn’t figured out he should ask for a different size, so used to making do.

Snafu grasped Sledge’s dick, knocked out at having gotten that far. He enjoyed the warmth, the smoothness, the hardness, the incredible moment that this was. Sledge was turned on for him, even if it was all wrapped up in something kind of fucked up. Not really a problem for Snafu.

At Snafu’s stimulating and promising grasp, Sledge bent and thrust forward a little, and as Snafu went for Sledge’s pants button to make room and bring some more pleasure to his poor needing and lost Sledge, that was exactly when Sledge was smacked down with an overwhelming sickness. It was the forward hip motion - too like the dreams, the sadistic mechanic he used in the dreams. He had to stop.

“Wait. I can’t,” Sledge said, a tremble rising in his voice, and he seemed ready to run again, pulling at Snafu’s arm gently, pleadingly, to get it out of his pants.

“You can. We can,” Snafu reasoned urgently, looking at Sledge like he was crazy, and fighting to hang onto Sledge’s cock, despite Sledge pulling at his arm. “It feels good, Eugene. Doesn’t it feel so good? Shit, you feel so fucking good.”

“It feels…amazing,” Sledge admitted, swallowing, eyes closing, stilling his efforts to fight Snafu’s arm in his pants for a moment, processing the sensation of Snafu’s fingers encircling his shaft fully, tightly…but then coming back to his theoretical senses, “I just can’t...” and as he grasped Snafu’s arm, his mind flashing though the different rape and murder scenes he cursed his arousal to be accompanied by. He felt so angry, powerful, violent, terrible, sad, despaired - such a mess. His cock actually softened some despite Snafu holding it and getting some kind of tremor on it if nothing else in the struggle. “Please get your hand out of there,” he begged, resorting to rubbing and scratching over Snafu's open sores, same as his - those mysterious lesions all the guys who spent lots of time on the front lines of Peleliu had.

That forced Snafu’s arm out with a yelp. “Fuck, Eugene!” Snafu looked at him with genuine hurt.

“Sorry. I can’t do this. Don’t follow me.” Sledge said angrily and with a breaking voice. He took off walking down the road, head down, intending to just keep walking till he was calmer, till Snafu gave up and went back to bed, till maybe God would see down into him and realize finally it had gone too far and send a lightning bolt along with all the rain to relieve Sledge of all this.

Snafu was too stunned and sad to go ahead and jack himself off, too angry at the war and the whole fucking arc of history that led to this bullshit moment.

Observing these things about himself, he confirmed that he was indeed in great, deep trouble over Eugene Sledge.

He was so glad he’d set things up with Molly for the next night.

 

*****

 

“Listen, you can ignore me for the entire rest of the god damn war like you did all day today,” Snafu spoke in hushed tones at Sledge’s bedside in their tent. Bill and Bergie and everyone else were around too, playing cards, reading, winding down another fairly easy day, as command continued to let them recoup and recover. “I will leave you the fuck alone, I swear. Just come with me this one time. Last thing I’ll ever ask, if that's how you want it. Swear to God.”

Sledge stared at him over his book. It was after dinner and Sledge had planned to stay up all night reading if he could, thus avoiding sleep and therefore nightmares. It wasn't a great long term plan but just one night without that recurring nightmare seemed a good starting goal. He didn’t feel angry at Snafu and certainly had no realistic plan to never speak to Snafu again. He just needed some space and time. Snafu seemed to be one of the centerpieces of his madness, so he just wanted to shut it off till he could figure it out. Of course Sledge knew there was no shutting off Snafu. But yielding now would be too soon. He didn’t yet test out well enough if some separation would be helpful. Most of the cells of his body were telling him separation with Snafu was NOT helpful, but a few brain cells held firm. “No,” he plainly replied.

“Gene, please.”

Sledge shook his head and returned his eyes to the page.

“Eugene, come on. Please,” Snafu had not ever sounded desperate like that before. He was embarrassed but he had to. Shit, he really felt it even. Time was short.

Sledge saw Snafu’s eyes had grown glassy, and that was startling. Sledge was mobilized by the sight. He couldn’t bear to see Snafu that distraught on his account. Blinking and sitting up, Sledge nodded affirmative. “Listen, I'm not planning on ignoring you forever. Just want a little space. What is so important tonight?"

"Fall in," Snafu suggested, and then he led Sledge out of the tent. “You gotta just trust me, Sledge. Ok? First, here is your both-eyes injury.” Snafu pulled white gauze and a strip of fabric rolled up from his pocket. “I don’t want you to know where I’m taking you, so, I’m gonna lead you around with a fake eye injury."

Sledge wanted to say no and go back to his original plan collapsed on his bed at the introduction of this annoying and juvenile move, but Sledge was also touched by the way Snafu clearly had a plan, had put some thought and effort into whatever this little jaunt was. It was intriguing. And he did trust Snafu. He never looked more sincere and desperate – nothing behind those big round eyes to be worried about. In fact, Snafu seemed more readable than he ever had before. With a serious face and one eyebrow raised, Sledge ducked between two tents with Snafu and let him put the medical supplies over his eyes, around his head. “Whatever this is…” Sledge started.

Snafu cut him off, not wanting him to have many thoughts if he could help it, “Put on this hat, too, so no one can tell as easily who ya are. No one will stop and try to chat. Just shut up till I tell you otherwise.”

Snafu led Sledge in a nonsensical parade that seemed to go all around the island for 20 minutes. It started raining lightly. Sometimes they did several 360 degree circles in a row to really dislocate Sledge from his sense of place and direction. Though the sound of ocean waves rolling onto the beach could be discerned at times, it was hard with the rain pelting all the leaves, and there was little else Sledge could go on to know where they were. He was mostly convinced Snafu would want to reprise the prior night's disaster, and Sledge pitied Snafu for it, since Sledge couldn't imagine how he wouldn't freak out again.

Snafu just kept a steady stream of verbal commands to help Sledge walk as he led him. When occasionally engaged in conversation, mostly from afar and in passing, Snafu made a crack like, “This boot's eyes got swollen shut from some damn thing; got this detail for the night. Hoo-ray for me.” Or, "Allergic to fuckin' coconuts." Or, “This is what happens when you lose a bet with Snafu.” And it was frequent enough Sledge kept his mouth shut and head down, preferring not to be seen in this silliness.

They stopped. “We’re here,” Snafu said to Sledge, from what Sledge could tell. But Snafu was also saying it to Molly from the entryway of her tent to get her attention. Snafu put his finger to his lips to remind her of their plan. Molly got up and moved toward them. She was in her uniform, as always.

“A tent? Just some grunt tent?” Sledge chidingly guessed.

“Sit your ass here,” Snafu said, not denying it, guiding Sledge to a cot that would confirm Sledge's guess.

“I want you to leave me alone,” Sledge warned. “I’m taking this thing off now.”

“Wait!” Snafu urged, grabbing the ties of the wrap around Sledge’s head to try to stop him and with the other hand, giving Molly a brief side embrace as she came to be next to him, giving her a wink and a little ass squeeze. She gave him a fond look and then turned her attention to Sledge.

Sledge’s senses were too well-honed her movements to go undetected after all those nights on the line in Peleliu watching for infiltrators. “Who else is here?” he asked, surprised but relieved, as his concerns over possible hanky-panky aims were alleviated if someone else was there.

Molly stood in front of Sledge and took his hand. He instantly registered her foreign soft touch, and in perfect coordination with that contact, Snafu interjected, “It is high fucking time you had your wounds tended. These fucking cuts, whatever these are on our arms. You have so many. This sweet nurse here agreed to help. VIP treatment, Sledgehammer.”

Sledge’s heart started beating faster right away, tension overwhelming his body. He yanked his hand back. “Is this her?” Sledge asked. The lack of response from anyone conspired with the pit in his stomach to give him his answer. There was no other reason to be blindfolded. He ripped the gauze and fabric scrap from his eyes and Snafu didn’t try to stop him. No point now. In the glow of the lanterns Sledge found himself eye to eye with the blond of his nightmares, as she had gotten down on her knees when he jerked his hand back. He broke out in an instant cold sweat.

She was calm, concerned, searching Sledge’s face. “Hi,” she said.

Standing behind Sledge, Snafu put his hands on Sledge’s shoulders firmly. "Her name is Molly, Eugene. Molly, this is Eugene. Now, stay put. Let her help you.”

Sledge looked up at Snafu. “Are you joking?”

“You afraid a’ something, Sledgehammer?” Snafu asked incredulously for Molly's sake. “Come on. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

Sledge looked back to her, hearing the whoosh and thump of his heart and blood, aware of the rage and anger he associated with her, but oddly, not really feeling it faced with the real her, the living breathing thing that was not an extension of his subconscious. She was immediately discernible as just some regular person rather than that dream version so full of unaware impudence.

He’d gotten slightly used to that handful of these Red Cross gals on the island with them, as their presence was difficult to avoid awareness of, attracting attention where ever they were. He’d kept his distance and avoided examining the girls too closely when they were somewhere he might see them. He never wanted to see this particular girl, the one he took juice from and stared daggers at. But now, here he was, actually being touched by her, an experience which registered in the really unusual and odd category, but not so out of place that it was painful, like it was when they got back from Peleliu.

Sledge knew he had been in an extraordinarily bad state when they returned to Pavuvu that day. He knew it was him, not her. He pretty much always knew it. Still, he was nervous to say the least, not trusting his body, not trusting what that meant for his self-control. He worried he'd changed in ways he couldn't predict and didn’t yet know about. He felt Snafu’s hands pressing down on his shoulders, containing him, or at least promising to try. So, wanting to appear rational, Sledge nodded once in consent to her with Snafu’s actually helpful words echoing in his head: Nothing bad is gonna happen.

“I know they’ve been cramming antibiotics down your gullet,” she said, “hoping to hold off or beat back the infection." She reached for Sledge’s left arm and he let her take it. “No one knows what these are, though. So, I’m gonna add an ointment and cover 'em all up, since the ‘let them breathe’ strategy isn’t working. This won’t hurt. Seem like they are getting any better since you got 'em? Not many guys with these think they are. Here, pull off your wet shirt...ok, now, let's see, think I'll start up here...”

Sledge didn’t really hear her talking as she worked. He took his shirt off like a good Marine, able to hear a directive in any chatter, and quite used to his body not being his own for shots, examinations, whatever. As drips of rainwater occasionally fell from his hair, he sat fighting off the terrible not-real memories of his previous encounters with her, hoping she could not sense in any way his awful, insane web of dastardly thoughts about her. He was stiff, looking at her askance and rarely, because each time he looked at her, he had a flash of a different memory, and each was a punch in the gut. Sometimes it was the real one – seeing red as she offered him a cup of juice; sometimes it was the not real ones - the various moments of his victimizing her.

While keeping hands on Sledge’s shoulders, Snafu was also doing his best to keep a confident look on his face for Molly, to keep his worry from breaking through. He was good at poker; it was perhaps his best life skill. Snafu admired Molly’s focus on her work, completely unperturbed by Sledge’s wounds or his tension, which were equally apparent and raw.

Sledge was slightly relieved when Molly switched to his other arm, as it meant this encounter was more than half over and he would thank her politely and bolt. He was glad to get some medical attention, but among the cacophony of emotions he was having, it turned out he was ambivalent about his lesions healing. They had been a touchstone for understanding himself since his return. If healed, they would no longer serve as any kind of explanation. No excuse for his head full of memories of killing and hate and fantasies of more horrors.

Molly kept chatting, telling Sledge what Snafu had told her about him, mentioning Mobile, that she never had been south of Mason-Dixon, but that she had a cousin in Birmingham, that she hoped to see it, heard it was beautiful, wondered about that mossy stuff in the trees, and on and on. Thoughts of home stirred in Sledge’s mind, adding a touch of sentimentality, of longing, to this bizarre swirl of real and not real memories and thoughts that wanted to undo him from all angles. To top it off, Snafu was touching his neck and shoulders again, like that night on the road.

Snafu was cautiously smug over daring to start gently running his thumbs up and down the skin of Eugene’s wet neck, remembering how he was able to soothe Sledge before with such touches around the same parts, what it led to...his arousal started to tug at him. He hoped so much for this to unfold the right way.

Though he was barely listening to her as she worked and talked, Sledge had become intrigued and engrossed in the details of Molly's appearance. Wanting to study it, he allowed himself to look more and more at her. He was taken by her imperfections: skin flaws, dark circles under her eyes, hundreds of blond hairs falling down or sticking out from where it all should have laid neatly, a coffee stain on her blouse, asymmetrical ears. So ridiculously humanly flawed.

When he put it all together, Sledge spoke suddenly, without concern for how she was in the middle of whatever it was she was talking about. "I've been wanting to tell you, I didn’t think you should be here. But it, well, it doesn’t seem very important now.” Sledge sounded distant but there was a glow of satisfaction about him for putting that speech to rest.

Molly smiled, pursed her lips, head cocked to the side. "Some guys tell me I shouldn't be here like they want to protect me. Not sure that's how you meant it." She was enjoying this unusual fun, aware she was part of a project Snafu brought her. It was intriguing, certainly good, and somehow not all that surprising, even though she didn't know the story and didn't need to. Every man there was in some kind of process. "And anyway, I’m with you. No one really belongs here, in a war, you know? We all just do our part and try to make it easier on each other."

"You got a war bond to sell me with that?" Sledge joked, his eyes watering a little as he chuckled mildly rather than maniacally, practically embarrassed at how nice it was to hear that nugget of simple sanity from her. It really, really was starting to kill him that his head was increasingly stuck on an image of her on her back, hurting and scared on his account.

When Molly was close to done, Snafu said, “Almost there, Eugene. See? Nothing bad happened. Aren’t you glad you let this nice gal be nice to you? The world has a tiny bit of good left in it, even for guys like us.” Snafu pressed forward, letting Sledge feel his erection against his upper back. Sledge’s body responded with a slight but unmistakably timed shift upon registering it.

“Yeah, guess so,” Sledge said, letting go of uncertainty a little but unwilling to look at Snafu after sharing his status, self conscious with Molly there, although she was glancing between them sometimes and was doing nothing but smiling, maybe a little embarrassed. Did she find them cute? Did she know about "them"? No matter. Too much crazy. It was time to go. "Thank you," he said to Molly, as if to wind down the night.

Snafu leaned down, examining Molly’s handiwork along Sledge's arms, placing his face right at Sledge’s ear, hands still on Sledge’s shoulders, and saying, “Looks better than it did, that’s for sure.” And Snafu lingered there to sweetly torture Sledge and continue to trap him on the bed.

Sledge’s breath grew shallow as his body cranked up with Snafu closer all the time. Guilt, rage, shame, desire, fear…To cope with all these emotions flooding in, some felt, some merely memories, and all this care and concern from the person he most trusted on Earth as well as from the person he most never wanted to be in a room with, systems began shutting down, and Eugene embraced existence as a leaf in a current, letting himself be carried along.

“Now wear this over all these bandages to help keep them in place,” Molly said, reaching next to Sledge at the end of the cot where she had a clean, folded blouse. She invaded his space getting it on him, forcing Snafu to stand up, let go, and make space as she tossed it open and held it up to guide each arm into the sleeves, to avoid disturbing the bandages. As she worked, she executed that famous nurse lean that offered a clear view down her shirt. Once his second sleeve was on, she pulled back slightly and went to straighten his collar. “There. Pretty good. Everything feel OK?” Sledge nodded. Her face was about four inches from his. She had paused, hands on his collar, allowing him to study her.

Sledge shivered, blinked at her. Remembered the rather forward dream version of her. Observed her actual manners. Prayed the weight of Snafu would return to his body because it was familiar and comforting and he was aroused and liked it best to keep that associated with Snafu, though looking down her shirt was not without some effect.

Snafu leaned back over to Sledge’s left ear, putting them all very near one another’s faces. “Like I told you the other night, Miss Molly, you are a fine nurse. Ain’t she, Sledge?” And Snafu reached out to caress her cheek with the back of his hand. She closed her eyes at his touch, grabbed his hand and guided his fingertips to her lips.

Sledge watched blankly. Snafu was smug but staring right back even as Molly did increasingly suggestive things to Snafu’s fingers. “You and…her?” Sledge asked in mild confusion, determined to not allow any additional emotions to color him because he might totally disintegrate if he did. Just riding the current.

Letting her keep his left hand, Snafu stepped around to sit at Sledge’s left on the cot, eyes dark and hopeful. “She’s a nice girl, Sledgehammer. She just wants to do something nice for us Marines. Can’t you tell that now?”

She took Sledge’s right hand to kiss and lick his fingertips, while still keeping Snafu’s, pressing it to her breast. “Just if you want,” she added between fingers. “Whatever…however…if you want…”

Snafu didn’t mind about where his hand was. He was trying to lock in a stare with Sledge. Sledge wanted to be locked in, but he kept glancing at Molly, who was making REAL sensations for him. Sweet, arousing sensations. His dreams never really had real sensations. Just sort of visual narration, presumed, implied perceptions. He was yielding to her advances, but had plenty of guilt yet to tug at him that he didn’t deserve this, not from her, and it froze him.

“Come on Sledge,” Snafu said, seeing all that complexity in Sledge and knowing he could push past it if he just willed it hard enough at Sledge. He glanced down at their laps, directing attention there for Sledge. Snafu moved his head forward a few tiny millimeters. Sledge didn’t take the bait, didn’t move to meet him. Still frozen.

Snafu wasn’t worried. He had so many, many ideas.

Molly had started sucking in two of Sledge’s fingers up to his second knuckle. Sledge gasped a little at her warmth, her wet active tongue. “That’s,” he tried not to squeak like a 14 year old boy, “that’s...something.’

“Ooo, Molly,” Snafu complemented, switching from his vigilance over Sledge to watching Molly with Sledge’s fingers. Snafu was truly not able to get any harder. He rubbed her breast lightly as she'd set him up to do, as she still was holding his hand to it, but then he wrested it free to guide her hand to Sledge’s crotch. “She’s a good nurse, I told you, Sledge. And I bet there’s all kinds of ‘somethings’ she can do for you.” And then turning to Molly, Snafu said, “I would really love to watch another one.” Snafu pressed her hand into Sledge’s crotch and covered her hand with his lightly, not to direct her, but to get closer to Sledge without freaking him out too much.

She smiled at each man as she felt around a bit to get her bearings, to find where the hard column was, where his soft sack was, and she gently pressed the heel of her hand into all these parts as she found them, Snafu’s hand shadowing and so pressing, too. Sledge was gasping more with these touches, looking to Snafu and continually being reassured it was OK. Molly was also guiding Sledge’s fingers from her mouth down her neck and chest where her collar was open, contacting her skin and leaving a little wet trail.

Sledge really wanted to move forward into this as he was as aroused as he’d ever been in his life or more. Even if he’d drowned the weird fear of hurting her in the river currents he imagined around him, there was the simple weirdness of being there with Snafu and with a woman. But then, why wouldn’t it be something this surreal and unimaginable, just as everything had been since he knew - really knew – this war with the Japanese? In these contexts, Sledge learned to find what was simple and to stick to it. He knew what he wanted, and saw he could have it.

These thoughts and the two hands jointly touching his cock finally succeeded at turning his engine over. He withdrew the hand Molly had been brushing around her body, then he looked to Snafu, though helplessly closing his eyes on occasion as their touches and rubs against his dick coursed through him.

Seeing Sledge was getting engaged, Snafu opted to tease him a bit more to bait him further. "Ain't it nice, Sledge? She knows what she’s doing. I’m gonna just get out of the way.” Snafu moved to kneel behind Molly, eyes as glued to Eugene’s as possible.

No more extra hands in her way, Molly placed a hand on Sledge’s abs and pushed him back a little to get to his pants button. “Let me get in there,” she asked softly. He found he could lean back just a little – easy enough in his thaw - and she reached both hands in to open his pants, and simultaneously went to kiss and lick his stomach, which was still exposed from the unbuttoned fresh shirt.

As Sledge made grateful and pleased grunts and sighs and gasps, Snafu reached around Molly’s waist and untucked her shirt, dying from the sounds coming out of Eugene. “I like it back here,” he said leaning toward her ear, reminding her. She giggled into Sledge’s stomach.

“Lift up,” she said to Sledge, ready to pull down his pants.

Sledge wanted to, but that was going to be a whopping load of vulnerability all of a sudden, quite a leap forward. He grabbed her hands, looked to Snafu, fearful.

Already unbuttoning Molly’s blouse, Snafu saw Sledge’s desperate look and said, “Hang on, Mol. Fair’s fair, huh?” he was nuzzling into her neck as she pulled away from Sledge to see how Snafu intended to handle Sledge's hesitancy. Snafu kept his hands on her, keeping her forward facing. “Not sure we can expect Sledgehammer to be the only half naked one. He might be a little shy.”

Molly held still. Sledge watched Snafu open Molly’s shirt and peel the sleeves down her arms, her head tilted to the side Snafu was not nuzzling and biting. She had a mild smile, eyes on Sledge, left with his erection, his drive to move forward, and the shredding brakes stopping him. Snafu next unfastened her bra, and then she shook it forward and off herself, and she tossed it away and kept her eyes on Sledge and tried to look as open and gentle as she could.

The sight of her full breasts, pink nipples pointing out right in front of him, right within his reach, did indeed manage to increase the arousal Sledge thought he was all topped out at. Snafu was tracing light patterns on her back, watching Sledge’s reaction. “Beautiful, huh, Sledgehammer? I mean, look at this, how she’s not only beautiful,” Snafu reached around with both hands to cup her breasts and present them even more at Sledge, “but she doesn’t even mind being here like this. So open. Open to anything, see?” Snafu needed Sledge to know it was ok, all of it.

“You’re not gonna refuse to let me take your pants off now, are you?” she asked in a low voice, not really reacting to Snafu’s touch, focused on Sledge instead.

“Let her,” Snafu half-whined. “And come down here and touch her. Whatever you want. Come get it, Sledgehammer.”

Whatever else Sledge had been thinking before, it was all silenced. The pure desire in him became all of reality. In becoming a leaf in a river, everything else clinging to him eventually washed away.

Sledge became more serious looking, like a thought was occurring to him he had to be very careful with, had to dissect, had to follow to the letter. “Stay there, keep holding her,” he said to Snafu. “I’m just gonna...”

Snafu delighted to see Sledge moving forward. Snafu held her breasts, hands encircling and holding them up a little, allowing her nipples to remain exposed to the air. Sledge slid down off the cot to his knees, laying his hands on Molly's breasts and Snafu's hands - his fingers laying over Snafu's but his thumbs going to Molly's nipples, which Sledge lightly rubbed. Before he finished moving forward, he laid a tentative, soft kiss on her lips, but with eyes open and on Snafu. She folded back a little, smiling, eyes closed.

Sledge stopped rubbing and went to light pinching. Molly let out little, “ohs,” and “uhs.” Sledge grinned, sharing his discovery with Snafu, where his eyes stayed most of the time. This was good. Sledge found a bridge to good. Snafu had so much glean and mischief in his eyes but could see the better, surer path to Sledge was through Molly. So, Snafu raised an eyebrow and went to give Molly a good sucking bite on her shoulder. Like the team that they had become in a mortar pit, Sledge took the cue and did the same to her other shoulder.

“Jesus!” Molly suddenly exclaimed, laughing, pushing all their hands away and taking the opportunity to pull Sledge’s pants and underwear down. “I don’t know if I can take that! But I do want this,” she begged as she grabbed at Sledge’s hard dick. “You are too cute.”

“I’d let the lady have her way,” Snafu suggested and reached out to shove Sledge backward.

Sledge was a little sheepish about being exposed even with a topless girl there, too. He awkwardly got back up on the cot to pull his sandals off, and both Snafu and Molly grabbed one pant leg each to pull his pants all the way off.

“Might as well get your pants off, too,” Molly said to Snafu as she reached for Sledge’s cock, which was an amazing feeling. “Fair’s fair,” she mocked at Snafu, then bent over, sending Sledge into disbelief until yes, indeed, she put her mouth around it. Sledge sucked in air sharply as she quite suddenly had taken in a lot of his leaking cock in her warm, wet mouth, and she was doing something gentle and massaging that felt soooooo good but was not like some crazy intense thing. It was actually keeping him from exploding into her mouth then and there from the curiosity of it, from Sledge’s lack of really wanting that from her. Sledge’s eyes rolled back at the mild sweet torture of it. He entertained the general thought of his weird dark dreams about her, and miraculously found them laughable at that moment. Himself laughable. What did anything matter that happened before if he could be there now, feeling so free and accepted and good?

Snafu had done as he’d been told and more, getting completely naked. Now he was watching intently as Molly’s head bobbed a tiny bit in Sledge’s lap. It was so hot and such a relief to see Sledge letting go. Snafu moved in for a closer look at this hotter-than-the-sun visual of Sledge enjoying being serviced and the soundtrack that was his appreciative moaning.

Sledge opened his eyes to find Snafu there, working his own cock practically in Sledge’s face. The way he had been able to sort of tolerate the pleasing and delightful sensations from Molly vanished and were replaced by hard core need. Sledge uttered, “Oh my God,” in anticipation of what he was about to do, of what he was feeling. He reached up to grab Snafu’s shoulder and pull him down for grateful kiss.

When Sledge let go of Snafu, he looked right down at Molly, having actually forgotten a little about what she was doing there as he kissed and lapped and let loose all his now well-defined desire for Snafu. Sledge was surprised she hadn’t bolted. Then, he was amazed at all the acceptance, the care, the trust it took from all of them for this moment to be possible. Weirdly, this deviant moment was the best ticket back to being human he had been handed yet. He returned to Snafu to kiss him more confidently, claiming him, reveling in being with him as he really really wanted, knowing more was sure to come.

Snafu was beside himself with relief and glee and want, kissing back hard, hungry, checking to make sure Sledge could receive the tidal wave of greed he might unleash. He was grabbing Eugene’s head and pressing into it. He reached down to stroke Molly’s head to let her know he didn’t forget her. “Sledgehammer, she is good, huh?” he added, just to be extra sure.

“What? Oh, oh, yeah.” But actually Sledge really was barely aware, lips plumped and wet from kissing and he was getting so swept up in wanting Snafu.

“Molly, I think you better stop,” Snafu said, reading Sledge. She did right away, looking curious and ready.

Snafu sized it all up, gave Sledge a quick look of reassurance, then he got down next to Molly and said, “So good to Sledge,” and he kissed her on the mouth, eager to taste Eugene, too. “But we don't want this to be the end of it for him tonight.” Snafu stared up at Sledge invitingly, desperately.

Sledge, rubbing his wet dick a little, saw what he wanted and that he could have it. He moved to get behind Snafu. “Take care of her,” Sledge encouraged. “I’ll be here.” And he bit into Snafu’s neck, glad to have said all he needed to because his voice was cracking with happy relief, and he was gripping Snafu’s upper arms, then running his hands slowly and delicately all around his torso to calm them both, to savor a little.

Snafu was driven by Sledge’s touching and he kissed Molly more hungrily, hips pressing at each touch. She kept opening her eyes to see what Sledge was up to and it was all wildly entertaining and a turn on, these two adorable Marines head over heels for each other.

Sledge started touching Snafu’s ass, rubbing all around on the skin, then kissing down his back lower and lower, biting, licking. Snafu had started trying to find Molly’s panties, and in their kneel, she knew it wasn’t going to work well. “Hang on, I’ll do this,” and she pulled away to stand up and undress completely.

While she did, Snafu nodded at her, and turned around to kiss Sledge and finally, finally get a full body, skin on skin, dick-to-rock-hard-dick friction going. Sledge was panting, tried to talk, “Snaf, I…you make me so….”

“Yeah, I know,” Snafu replied between kisses, “Me, too.”

Suddenly there was a light thump next to them.

Molly had placed a bottle and a condom on the ground next to them. “Go to town, boys,” she suggested.

“I tell you, they just do not make ‘em like you anymore, Miss Molly,” Snafu said gratefully, turning to get on all fours over the cot, one foot planted on the floor, leaving Eugene to reach for the supplies and then get behind Snafu.

“Get under him,” Sledge said to Molly, who was backing off and maybe heading for a robe. But Sledge said it with such a friendly, compelling darkness, she considered it.

“That cot isn’t gonna hold!” she giggled, offering them a way to not worry about her. She approached the opposite end of the cot from where Sledge was and sat. “Let’s just see what happens once you get going. I'm game to watch at least.”

Sledge had rolled the condom on and Snafu was dying from waiting for Sledge to touch him, to part him, to open him, to fill him up. So wanting, so needing it, so glad that Sledge seemed sure of himself and not lost in conflicted worried bullshit.

Sledge coated on some oil. “Get some on your fingers, too, Eugene. Gotta open me up first.”

New Orleans had so, so much to teach an unsupervised adolescent boy.

Sledge was nervous but understood the principle and had zero body shame in the company of most Marines and most of all in the company of Snafu. He had wondered enough about himself, read the tiny bit he could find, but it wasn't easy to come by good informative secretive reading material in Mobile, where he hadn't wanted a soul to know he was even just wondering.

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” Sledge said, one finger ready to enter Snafu. “I want this but not if…”

“You can’t hurt me, Eugene,” Snafu promised, not looking at him, just making eyes at Molly.

Molly watched in fascination, face to face with Snafu. She reached up to rub his scalp with her fingertips. “Maybe this can help relax you.”

“Not gonna do no harm,” Snafu agreed.

Sledge worked hard to keep under control, wanting to fuck into something so badly, especially Snafu who could contain all the intensity, could understand all the denied needs…but one finger at a time. Sledge was not afraid to push a bit to get it going. Snafu grunted once and that was all. “Ready for another?”

After two beats, Snafu said, “Ready.”

Molly got fully up on the cot, sitting back on her folded legs, both hands in Snafu’s hair, her breasts lifting up at him, his face a contortion of moments of pain and then relaxation again.

“Three coming in,” Sledge next warned.

“Keep it up, Sledge. I can’t wait to take you, take your dick in me. Fuck. And maybe Miss Molly’ll do what you asked of her.”

A little stunned, Molly said, “I need to get you a condom,” happy to even more clearly have an opportunity to bring relief to Snafu, to enhance this for him, for them. She trotted off.

Sledge followed her with his eyes as he worked his third finger, the slowest yet, into Snafu’s tight hole. Sledge’s eyes fell on the pitcher, lost in some other dish junk near where she had gone to open a box and get another condom.

He didn’t care.

Snafu took a moment to adjust and figured this was as far as it was gonna go until Sledge just went for it. Molly returned as he was adjusting, enjoying Sledge rubbing his back, too, and she got under him like a mechanic working under a car, and rolled the condom onto his painfully hard cock. When she was done, Snafu was ready to explode; he really needed all the releases possible. He’d been so patient. This was always the beautiful trade off of bottoming – the wait, the anticipation, the pain that becomes pleasure. What better thing was there in life? “Get your damn cock in me, now, Eugene,” he suggested languidly. “And you. Get under me, get ready,” he said to Molly.

She laid down and started rubbing her own clit. Sledge started pushing, got the head in, and Snafu grunted mightily. Sledge stopped. “Alright?” he asked, pawing at Snafu’s back, petting, willing him to be OK.

“Yeah, just, hang on like you are. Mmmm. Mol, you look so pretty down there,” Snafu said thinly, waiting for the sear to go away, grateful for the distraction that Molly was.

She just grinned up at him.

Sledge pushed again, Snafu grunted but a little less.

“Close enough,” Snafu snapped, laughing a little maniacally, and then lowering himself, forcing Eugene to accommodate the angle. Snafu grabbed his cock and aimed it at Molly’s open legs, at her clit, then slid down into her vagina easily.

“About time,” she whispered and then let loose an, “Oh!” as Snafu entered her. He found plenty of slick wetness and little resistance. But he held back some, didn’t press in all the way.

“He’s gonna fuck both of us,” Snafu said greedily to Molly, eye brows raising, a sense of fun about it all, as he hovered over her, like Christmas was coming for them both. “Two Marines at once. Not all girls can handle that.”

Sledge laughed and just started pumping – he could barely stop had he been ordered to. He was soon in all the way and was beside himself with how amazing, amazing it felt. All that pressure clamping on his cock even as he was able to get the best possible friction as he moved in and out. Snafu was loving it, getting a wonderful feeling from Sledge, who’d reached deep enough to be hitting the spot, and all while this was registering, Snafu also had the pleasure of augmenting each forward thrust from Eugene into Molly, who was exhaling and looking to be in ecstasy, not terror or fear or pain or anything bad.

The cot frame creaked and whined but held, with Snafu diverting weight with his one extended foot on the floor.

Sledge came first with a silent, o-shaped mouth, a frozen 10 seconds, and then panting. Molly had been more or less on the whole time, and when she told Snafu to go ahead, he did, readily, not sure he would be able to last long after taking Eugene, too. Surprising amounts of energy had flowed out in two directions.

Sledge, still hanging on to Snafu, peered around to see Molly on her back, really seeing her for the first time since they’d gotten into this position. Yes, that was the visual. Pretty much the same visual. Molly on her back. But naked and laughing and with Snafu in between them fucking and being fucked.

It was all fine. No stray feelings.

Nothing about this was monstrous.

 

****

 

When they parted ways, Snafu promised Molly they’d call up the finest Banika florist and send her a bouquet. She laughed and assured them she needed no mementos by which to remember them even if there was such a service on that island, or a way for them to call for it as grunts on Pavuvu. The only follow-up she wanted was a letter at war’s end. She didn’t say why, but she didn’t have to.

The following days they performed work details and light drills and ate and sat around smoking and freaking out the boot replacements with their million mile stares and horror stories about the innoculations. Snafu never crept toward Sledge again. At least, he had no awareness of doing so. To hell with anyone’s perception of it.

The Japanese foxhole infiltrator nightmare would haunt Sledge and Snafu for a long, long time. But at least each time this typical nightmare startled one or the other awake, it was an excuse to step out into the night together, find each other in the dark of the forest. Find comfort, commiseration, embraces, kisses, body pressing, erection grinding, nipple biting, neat hard and fast hand jobs, sloppy slow blow jobs, bent over fucks, desperate and relieving and beautiful. Bad enough to appease Snafu; good enough to make the risks worthwhile for Sledge.

In all that they did, they held fast to the rule of being mindful of those bizarrely and continuously unhealed arm lesions.

 

***END***


End file.
